


Lima Syndrome- Kidnapped Falls

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: A lil swearing, Alternate Universe, Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Bill is a drug lord, Dipper is paranoid, Drugs, Gideon is a lil shit, Human!Bill, Kidnapped AU, Kidnapping, Kidnapping tw, Mabel is a cutie, Stan is a toasted marshmallow, Stan kidnaps the twins, This is an AU, Violence, panic attacks tw, self harm tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Stan was employed to kidnap the children and sell them off to a Colombian drug lord named William Cypher, but he realizes that he’s growing fond of the kids against his will. Stan is also trying to get his own twin brother back from this criminal army, who has held him hostage for thirty years after a dreadful fight and a single mistake on Stan’s part. Some events similar to the show unfold, with Dipper finding the journal. The underlying conflict is Dipper’s and Mabel’s struggle to deal with the fact that they were kidnapped by Stan and discover how much trust actually matters.





	1. "Welcome"

**Author's Note:**

> I created this AU at 3 in the morning so I have no idea what I'm doing, but if you have any questions feel free to go to kidnappedfalls.tumblr.com and I'll be happy to answer! Updates every Friday Eastern time.

**“Welcome”**

“Welcome to Gravity Falls!” said the large sign. The two children in the back of the old red El Diablo, however, did not feel entirely welcomed. Especially because there was a very scary old guy driving the car, an old guy they didn’t know and didn’t really want to know. He was babbling on to the kids about the old tourist trap he ran. “Called the Mystery Shack,” he was saying. “You’re gonna be staying there until the guys come to get you.”

They took a sharp turn down a narrow road lined with pines and crude signs that said things like, “Welcome to the Mystery Shack!” and “Tourists Welcome!” and “No Refunds!” The road opened up to a large driveway with a totem pole and, more impressively, a tall, angular, cabin-like building. A large sign sat on top, announcing the building as “The Mystery Hack.”

“Don’t even think about running away,” the man warned cheerily. “I may not be allowed to shoot ya, but you’d still never survive in those woods!”

The man got out of the car and waited for the kids to do the same. When they sat there staring at him, he glared at them and flung the door open. “Out,” he said, to which the kids reluctantly obeyed.

“Now, what did he say your names were?” the man thought aloud. “Dylan and Mavis, right?”

“Dipper,” the boy said.

“Mabel,” the girl said.

“Oh, well, I was close.” He guffawed and slammed the car door shut. “Come on, let’s get you two runts inside.”

As soon as his back was to them, he began to mutter, “Goddamn twins, never listen to anyone.” He shoved the door open and walked in without looking back.

Dipper leaned over to whisper to his sister, “Should we make a break for it?”

“No,” Mabel replied, shaking her head, “I have a better plan.”

She smoothed down her bright pink sweater--which was odd attire for Oregon summer--and followed the old man into the building. Dipper stared after her, narrowing his eyes, before he, too, disappeared through the door and into the unknown.


	2. "Stan"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Mabel are introduced to the Shack.

**"Stan”**

The Mystery Shack was the corniest tourist trap both Dipper and Mabel had ever seen. Neither twin could believe that anyone would actually _believe_ some of that stuff was real, let alone enjoy it. “Eh, it works,” was all the old guy said when Mabel asked. “Now, you two are gonna stay in the attic most of the time, unless I call for ya. Got that?”

“Yes, sir,” Mabel said sweetly. Dipper glared at her.

The man took them to the attic and swung the door open. “I’m Stan. Your great-uncle. You can call me Stan, or grunk-ah, great-uncle Stan, or Uncle Stan.”

“Pfft,” Mabel giggled. “Grunkle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “And just so you know--your parents know where you are. They agreed to this before you were even born. Don’t ask why, you don’t want to know. Well, make yourselves at home.” He flung the small bag that held a couple changes of clothes and their toiletries into the room and slammed the door. The twins heard a lock click.

“Well, he seems nice,” Mabel said chipperly.

Dipper flung himself onto the bed on the left side of the room. “Mabel,” he said, a touch of panic in his voice, “we’ve been kidnapped.”

“It can’t be that bad, broseph,” Mabel grinned, shoving her small pile of skirts, sweaters, and other articles of clothing under the other bed. “Think of it more like we’re starting a new chapter.”

“Oh, God, we’ve been kidnapped. And our parents don’t even care.” Dipper’s breathing was growing heavier.

“Dipper, you’re doing it again,” Mabel warned. “Snap out of it, bro-bro.”

When Dipper didn’t calm down, Mabel walked over to Dipper, grabbed his shoulders, and said firmly, “Dipper. Breathe.”

He closed his eyes and forced a breath in and then out again. “Sorry,” he said after a moment. “It’s just...Mabel, what’s gonna happen to us? What if we...what if we die? What are our friends gonna think? We’re only twelve!”

“It’s okay, Dip'n Dots, I’ve got a plan,” Mabel grinned. “No worries. Our ‘Grunkle’ Stan’s gonna have no idea what hit him. Listen up.” Dipper sat up, attentive. “We’ve just gotta get him to like us,” Mabel whispered excitedly. “You know, kinda grow on him. I bet he’s a real softie inside once we break through his scary old man shell.”

Dipper groaned. “Mabel, it’s never gonna work. This guy doesn’t care, this guy will never care. He’s just gonna give us away to whatever ‘guys’ he was talking about.”

“It’s our only shot.” Mabel’s voice was uncharacteristically serious.

Dipper looked at her for a moment, then sighed and flopped back onto the bed again. “Whatever.”

oooooo

“So, boss,” said the redhaired young cashier in the gift shop of the Mystery Shack, “where are those kids?”

“Eh? What kids?” Stan’s back was to her, restocking the shelves.

“The kids you drove out to bring here. The ones I saw you bringing in through the front.”

“Oh, them. I put them in the attic. They’ll be okay there.”

“You locked them in the attic?” The girl was suddenly very vehement. “Dude, you can’t just do that to kids.”

“Why not? They’re mine until the guys come and get them.”

“What guys?”

“Oh, uh…” Stan stiffened. “Uh...nonspecific excuse!” He flung a bunch of boxes to the floor and ran out of the room.

There was a pause. “Well, I’m gonna go and check on the kids,” Wendy grinned to herself, and walked out of the gift shop and up the stairs to the attic.

oooooo

There was a knock on the attic door. Dipper froze, and Mabel bounced to the door. “Who is it?” she bubbled.

“It’s Wendy. Bet the door’s locked, isn’t it?”

“Yep! But it’s nice to meet you, Wendy!” Mabel laughed. “I’m Mabel. My twin bro, Dipper, is in here too. But he’s having--” this she whispered-- “ _ adjustment issues.” _

Wendy laughed. “Whatever, dude. Anyway, I work here. For Stan. He’s my boss. I basically run the gift shop.”

“Cool! Who else works here?”

“The handyman, a real cool guy named Soos.”

“Like the author?”

“Nah, good guess. You guys need anything?”

“Craft supplies. And macaroni! Thanks, bye!”

“I can't get the door open but I got you, man.” Wendy grinned and went back downstairs. “Yo, Stan! Mabel wants craft supplies! And macaroni, if you have it.”

“Don't have any,” came a muffled reply from somewhere in the attraction. After a pause, he added, “Why's she need it?”

“Dunno. But I think it would make her happy.”

“Why the hell’d I care?”

“Why the hell wouldn't you?”

A very long silence. “Eh, go out and get some. Wouldn't hurt.”

Wendy grinned triumphantly. “Right-o.” She snagged a few tens from the register and exited the Shack, heading for the main town.

oooooo

“Dip, I'm starting a scrapbook!”

“What?”

“I'm making a scrapbook! It's gonna be soooo amazing!”

“What are you going to make your scrapbook about?”

“Our time here! I bet it’s gonna be fun!”

Dipper sighed. “We’re living in the house of a kidnapper until he sells us off to whoever his boss is. And you want to make a scrapbook of it.”

“Well, I want to remember everything that happens!”

“I think I’m just going to want to forget.” Dipper let out a loud sigh and continued staring at the ceiling.

“Whatever, broseph,” Mabel grinned, and pulled out some knitting needles and yarn.

oooooo

Stan rummaged vacantly through boxes, pulling out cartoonish bobbleheads and pine-tree hats and grappling hooks and placing them on shelves. “Don’t see what’s so interesting about ‘em,” he muttered. “Wonder why he wants ‘em so bad.”

They were kinda cute, though, Stan had to admit. Too bad their parents…he shuddered. He wasn’t going to tell the kids what happened to their parents after they left. Then again, where they were going, they weren’t going to see their parents ever again. It was a small price to pay to keep the town safe...and something else. Something more precious than Stan could ever dream of.

He rubbed his face wearily and straightened up, his back cracking in multiple places as it warned him noisily that he was far too old to bend down like this anymore.  _ Guess I should get dinner for me...and the kids,  _ he thought ruefully, rubbing his aching back.  _ But I’ve gotta go shopping, and then cook, and...Yeesh. I...guess I could order some pizza…. _

“Mr Pines! I'm back with Mabel’s stuff!” Wendy suddenly shouted, the door slamming as she entered.

“Go...uh...take it up to her, I guess,” Stan said.

“Sorry, boss, I don't have a key.”

Stan shot Wendy a death glare. Then, muttering something about teenagers, he swiped the items from the smug redhead and trudged up the stairs to the attic. “Stupid kids, needing stupid art supplies...stupid teenagers...stupid employees I can’t afford to fire...stupid boss….”

He fished the key from his pants pocket and unlocked the door. “I brought your stuff,” he growled, and tossed the bag in. It rattled as it hit the floor.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” the little girl exclaimed, and swooped down on the bag.

Stan stared into the room for a moment. The girl’s side of the room was all settled and somehow decorated pink, even though he was certain their bags held nothing other than clothes and toiletries. The boy’s side was barren; he’d not even messed with the blankets.

The girl--Mavis? Miranda?--hopped onto her bed and pulled out a book seemingly from nowhere although he was certain it was just an old empty photo album he’d put up here years ago. She reached into the plastic bag and grabbed glue, glitter, and a bunch of construction paper. Then, from her sweater, she retrieved a camera. “What--?” Stan started. 

The camera clicked, flashed, and the child giggled. “First photo for the scrapbook!”

The boy, meanwhile, hadn’t moved. He sat on his bed and glared at Stan. Unnerved, Stan quickly left the room and locked it behind him. However, he couldn’t help but stand there and listen as the girl began to babble about her scrapbook of “Summer Memories” and her hope for a “summer romance.” Of course, her brother completely debunked her hopes. “Mabel,” he said, “we’ve been  _ kidnapped. _ We’re  _ locked  _ in the house of some guy claiming to be our uncle. We’re not going to have any ‘fun summer memories,’ and you’re definitely not going to have a ‘summer romance.’”

“Well, at least we can remember all the fun times we’re gonna have with Grunkle Stan!” The girl said, and Stan’s heart gave a twinge.  _ Grunkle. _ He thought of their parents again.

Yeah, he’s still gonna sell them to the boss. But at least he can buy them pizza tonight.


	3. "Wendy"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beautiful redheaded teenager steals the kids' hearts and unconsciously terrorizes Stan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Actual canon-ish plot!

**“Wendy”**

“He’s not going to remember to feed us, is he?” Dipper said about an hour after Mabel received her craft supplies. “We’re just going to sit up here and slowly starve.”

“What? Nooooo,” Mabel scoffed, sticking another macaroni noodle on the second page of her “scrapbook.” “Just you watch, broseph. He’s gonna come up here any minute and tell us he’s ordered pizza!”

Dipper, who was lying on his back and examining the slanted wooden ceiling, rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he told her. “This guy is--”

He never got to finish his sentence, because at that moment, the door swung open and there stood none other than Stan himself. “Kids,” he said, “I ordered pizza. You wanna...come down and get some?”

Mabel whooped and, leaving a trail of glitter in her wake, zoomed out of the room. Dipper took his time, sidling suspiciously around the old man. He was up to something, Dipper was certain.

When Stan and Dipper got downstairs, they found Mabel flitting all around, exploring the gift shop and the fake creatures. “Oooh,” she said, examining a grappling hook.

“Hey, runt, put that down!” Stan shouted.

“GRAPPLING HOOK!” the child shrieked, and shot the gun at the ceiling. There was a crash and some wood splinters showered down. A few boxes toppled over.

“Mabel,” Dipper yelled.

“Sorry, Dip Dop! I couldn’t resist!” Mabel giggled, still hanging from the ceiling.

“You want dinner?” Stan asked. Mabel nodded. “Then put it down and come with me.”

Carefully, Mabel lowered herself to the ground, retracted the hook, and placed it back on the shelf. “Sorry,” she grinned.

Stan led the kids into the kitchen where a large pizza box adorned a small round table. “Uhhh...help yourselves, I guess,” Stan muttered.

Mabel cheered and bolted for the table, but Dipper stayed behind. “What are you playing at, old man?” he murmured.

Stan probably heard him. Either way, he gave Dipper a shove towards the table. “Get some now or you won’t get any,” he said gruffly, though that was a bit of a lie. He didn’t want to starve them.

The boy seemed to take it a little too seriously, and gave him a freaked-out glance before hastening to the table. He changed modes so fast that Stan wondered if the kid had split personalities. But the terror felt rather good, and a strange part of him wanted to see the kid feel it again.

“Go on, eat up,” Stan told them, “cause after dinner, you’re--”

“Yo, dudes, what’s up?” Wendy said enthusiastically, walking into the kitchen. “Gift shop’s all closed up!”

“Wendy?” Mabel asked through a mouthful of pizza.

“The one and only!”

“Hi! Thanks for getting my craft supplies! I’m Mabel, and this is my twin bro, Dipper!”

“Sup,” Wendy said.

Dipper stared at her. His mouth opened a little. He closed it, then opened it again. “H-hey,” he squeaked.

Mabel nudged him and whispered something in his ear. He blushed and shoved her away. “Dude. Dude,” Wendy said to Mabel, “that sweater is _awesome._ ”

“Alright, kids,” Stan barked, “finish up so we can get you back upstairs.”

“Dude, no, that’s not right,” argued Wendy, “you can’t just keep kids in the attic! They need to move around, go outside, do kid things! I get it if you’ve never taken care of kids before, and if you have no idea what to do with them, but you can’t just coop them up upstairs all day. I’ll take them out if you want.”

Stan humphed. “As long as you keep a really close eye on them,” he grumbled.

“Ah, you old softie,” Wendy laughed. “Come on, dudes. Let’s go have some fun!”

Dipper and Mabel cheered and followed Wendy out the door, chanting, “Have some fun! Have some fun! Have some fun!”

The screen door slammed with an almost mocking finality, leaving Stan alone in a too-still building. “Ah, Stan,” he sighed, “you can’t go soft. Not now.”

oooooo

“Woah! There's so many pine trees! Doesn't it smell so nice out here, Dipper?”

Dipper nodded. Oregon air was so much clearer and better than in California. “Wendy, we wanna explore the woods!”

“Alright! I'll give you the grand tour!” Wendy led the children into the woods and began to describe each tree, mushroom, and squirrel, making up hilarious stories about them.

Dipper wandered a little bit, keeping the pair in sight but exploring the woods more scientifically. “Hmm,” he said, looking at a particularly tall tree. “Why is it shiny?” He walked over to the trunk and knocked twice on it, then yelped when it produced a _bong bong_ noise. When he’d recovered from his shock, he cautiously examined the tree. “A panel? Does it open?” He pressed. It sprang open and revealed a box covered with switches and buttons. He flicked a switch.

A dreadful shriek of metal on age-old metal, and Dipper looked over to see a compartment in the ground slide open. “What?” He knelt beside the hole, reached in, and pulled out a large red book with a gold, six-fingered hand and the number 3 on its cover. “What’s this?”

He read a few pages. It seemed to be a journal full of scrawlings and scribbles about supernatural and paranormal creatures in Gravity Falls, which, near the end, degenerated into manic scrawls about ‘being watched’. According to Dipper’s quick deductions, it looked to have been written by a mysterious, paranoid man who seemed to have vanished without a trace a few decades ago. “This is so cool!” the boy exclaimed. “But who’s the author?”

“HEY DIPPER!” Mabel shrieked at him, popping out from behind a bush. “WHAT’D YOU FIND?”

“N-nothing, nothing!” he squeaked, hiding the journal rather poorly behind his back.

Mabel stared at him for a beat. Then she giggled, said, “Okay!” and began skipping back towards the Shack and their kidnapper.

Dipper looked at Wendy. She shrugged. “The sun’s going down, and I don’t think the boss would like me to keep you out after dark. He’s a little paranoid about you I guess.” The teen followed Mabel.

Dipper stood there for a moment. “I guess,” he echoed before following the girls.

oooooo

“Mr. Pines! We’re back!”

“Take ‘em upstairs for me. They need to...to get to bed,” Stan called from his TV room.

“Right!” There was a thunder of footsteps on the stairs, then silence. Wendy called, “Goodnight!” to the kids, then came back down the stairs. “Goodnight, Mr. Pines,” she said. The door slammed shut. The shack was dark and quiet.

The old man walked over to the phone and dialed a number. “It’s me,” he said. “I have them.”


End file.
